My Very Own Doll
A Small Plastic Fantasy
By Maryanne Peters

This is what she looked like when I first met Nat. She was striking poses just like this one. Working the costume just beautifully. The plastic sheen on the shaved legs was a great touch. The hair and the breasts were not real then. They are now.

I was told that she was a guy. They said “a real practical joker and the master of the fancy dress costume”. The thing is, as Nat herself explained, it is not the clothes, it is the presentation.

“You have to have the attitude,” she said. “Barbie is super feminine and yet she has spunk. Her young man does what he is told.”

“Well, by chance my name is Ken,” I said. So I guess I had better be by your side tonight?”

“You had better be, Mister,” she teased. “Actually, my girlfriend is pissed that I look so good. She looks positively dowdy beside me.

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

“What do you do, Ken?” she asked, taking my arm. She never let her Barbie persona slip for a moment. She was living the character, and clearly enjoying it.”

“I make women happy,” I said.

“I am sure you do,” she giggled. “But I mean, what do you do for a living.”

“I live to make women happy,” I insisted. “Stay with me and see if I don’t.”

“Okay,” she said, in her little Barbie voice. “But so you don’t get any ideas, just remember that I am not real. I am plastic.”

And so she proved to be. “Plastic” – meaning easily shaped or moulded. She proved to be my real life doll. All she needed was a strong hand to give her shape, and the comfort of a doll house fit for the fun-loving little thing that she is, and her very own Ken.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2021